Ghost
by Jess J
Summary: Viktor ficlet, rated for gruesome imagery. He did not plan to take anyone in that night. He did not plan to turn anyone, did not plan to change with his bite, he planned to feed and to kill. Please review.


Author's note: This is my second ficlet concerning Viktor, and I'm finding myself enjoying the challenge of writing him. I only hope I'm able to keep him in-character, as he's rather difficult to write. Anyway, finally wrote this after having the plot bunny hopping around in my head for several weeks. So glad the muse was finally able to get it down. Hope ya'll enjoy and please, please review. Constructive criticism is nice too.

Disclaimer: I do not own Viktor, Selene, or Selene's family. They all belong to Danny McBride, Kevin Grevioux, Len Wiseman, and Sony. Please do not sue me, no harm intended. Savvy?

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GHOST

He did not plan to take anyone in that night. He did not plan to turn anyone, did not plan to change with his bite, he planned to feed and to kill. He plan to listen to that primal, baser instinct in his brain, to feast on the blood of the choice prey of his kind. He did not plan to think of the past, nor of the future. He only wanted to feed.

He did. Oh, how he did. So much sweet, tangy blood filling his belly, warming his frozen limbs and making him feel so alive, so sweetly alive. He had never been human, had never known warmth created from his own body. But he glimpsed it every time he fed from humans.

It was different when he drank the blood of animals, of the meat and flesh humans used for their food. It did not hold the same warmth, nor the same sweet flavor. It was vile truly, but it was also necessary for now. His kind could not ravage humanity for food.

Some of them did, on rare occasions, in secret just like he was doing now. Had done so in the past. Would do so in the future. He could not blame them, and only if they were caught in the act itself would they be punished for breaking the law.

Blood of animals, it was demeaning and vile. Feeding on the food of humans, mortals, it was below him and his kind. Humans should be their food, but the mortals could be worse problems then the lycans when their fears and superstitions were aroused.

But that night, that night he did not care. He would make certain wolves would fall to the blame. A small kick to the lycans, that their baser cousins would be found at fault, perhaps hunted down, their pelts used for decorations in towns where lycans traveled through.

That night, he fed, he silenced screams and shrieks of fear and pain with his teeth, sinking into flesh, ripping and sucking and feeding. He fed on the animals, fed on the human male that came out to fend him off.

He fed on the older female, rushing out to her husband's side, not even registering his presence until he had stepped from the shadows, drenched in blood.

Then the younger female, screaming at the site of her parents and their killer, blood soaking him, eyes of ice glowing in the dark of the night. He had silenced her easily enough as well, draining her dry even as he fed. Her blood was the sweetest so far, young and fresh and warmer than the others even.

He was intoxicated with their blood, the warmth making his senses drunk with pleasure, and the fulfilling taste of human blood was starting to sate his yearning appetite for their kind. Yet his belly still craved more, it was like the opium he had seen many mortals fall to, or the ale of the taverns.

More could never be enough.

He walked through though the house, ignoring pictures and paintings, barely registering the personal belongings of his victims. He was a vampire. They were his prey. He was not human, never had been. His kind fed on theirs, that was the way of things, the way he wished he could let things be. But too many problems would arise.

For the humans were not just animals, they were closer to the vampires than that. They were lesser, but they also loved and hurt, hated and despaired. He pitied them, and their bleak existence. But that night was not about morals and ethics of vampires preying on humans.

He strode down a hallway, the smell of live flesh, beating hearts, pounding blood calling to him, ringing in his ears and making his nostrils flare as he let himself give into the animalistic urge in him. He was so very reserved every second it seemed, he kept himself, and his kind so restrained. Now when he let his hunger out, when he let himself give in to the baser instincts singing in his soul, it was hard to see his actions, hard to control.

He did not want to though. Not that night. He wanted to gorge himself on human blood, he wanted to burn with their warmth and essence, he wanted to forget everything except what he was.

Vampire. Pure born vampire of the old ages, more than a thousand centuries behind him, and eternity before him. An Elder and a warlord of his kind. A being who preyed upon blood, and who lusted after the crimson liquid flowing through the veins of humans, their taste like sweet copper.

He opened a door to a small room, his senses telling him that there was more prey inside it. He stopped for a moment, his hand stayed by the sight of two small girls, twins. Their identical faces staring up at him in fear and confusion.

To his secret shame, a feeling he would never admit even to himself, he fed from their small bodies as well, devouring their blood and draining their young lives away. He drank their sweet liquid, the warm fluid passing through his fangs and down his throat to fill him just as the blood of the others had done.

Leaving them with a quick, pitying glance, he moved to the last room with life inside it, opening the door to find a young girl, practically a woman. Older than the two children, younger than the others, she was on the verge of adulthood, still a maiden, yet fresh and ripe, ready for her first suitor.

She stared at him, none of the confusion from the little girls' faces on hers, but the same terror was in her eyes.

Lovely, dark green eyes, surrounded by brown. But still, there was green in them, and innocence, and a fear that sent a more painful stab into his heart than any stake of any slayer of his kind could ever drive into him.

She had dark, raven hair with tints of brownish red in the moonlight, pale skin, and an innocent air, like that of a child's. she was still, in some ways, a child. She was frozen in an adult's fear though, her body paralyzed as he approached her.

He had not come to change anyone, to take anyone in. He had come only to feed, to kill his prey.

But he could not harm this one. He could not do it, for there was too much of another in her eyes, in her aura. He could not feel the pain of killing Sonja again. His face softened and he reached out, brushing back some of the young girl's hair.

"Do not fear, my child," he whispered, his mind already set, his cover already pulled tightly over. "Those monsters are gone, you are safe now. I will not harm you, no let any harm befall you," he assured her, and smiled when her body relaxed ever so slightly.

She stared up at him in trust now, her face shining in the silvery light the night provided, the full moon filtering in through her window. She was so pale, especially for a human. Almost like a ghost's.


End file.
